


An Eggscellent Adventure

by flute25



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU, Crack, Everyone Is Alive, Except Thanos, Loki (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pranks and Practical Jokes, Thor (Marvel) is Not Stupid, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Tricksters, ish, lightly edited, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 04:10:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15878253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flute25/pseuds/flute25
Summary: Loki teaches Thor about a new Midgardian cooking method as the two sons of Asgard settle into their new home at Stark Tower.Post-Infinity War/A4. Thanos is dead, everyone else is alive, and the sun is shining on us again.





	An Eggscellent Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> This began as a scene for “Deep Listening” and just…became something else entirely.
> 
> This is a little silly.

Thor is looking for Loki. 

He has been in a terrible mood as of late. The fallout from Thanos's attacks has been difficult, for all the Avengers. But unlike the others, Loki had not been trapped in the Soul Stone, had not been waiting to be released from limbo while Thor and his companions devised a plan to save the universe. No, Loki had been truly dead, having sent himself to Niflheim to broker a deal with the darkest of beings in the underworld. And while Loki’s machinations had been essential to the eventual defeat of Thanos, the deal he had contrived…

Thor shakes his head, wanting to dispel the awful images from his memory.

In the end, the gambit had paid off. 

It had taken Loki a week to stop trembling, several more before he uttered a single word.

Unlike before, however - unlike the disaster with the Tesseract, or Svartalfheim, or Ragnarok - now they have time. Time to heal, time to sit, time to just _be_.

And with that time, Loki was coming back to himself. 

Mostly.

Not all the wounds have been healed, both physical and mental, but Thor is content for now. Or, he would be if he could track down his younger brother before he instigated _another_ incident in Stark’s Tower. 

The Asgardians have been quick to forgive Loki’s trespasses. He had been their savior, after all. The Midgardians, however, still hold far more bitter memories of his brother, even after the defeat of Thanos.

Thor is not going to lose his brother again, not to the forces of evil, and certainly not to any Midgardian government. And with that thought in mind, he rounds the  corner, heading for the kitchen. A faint buzzing and the smell of something being cooked pricks at his senses, the particular _energy_ of Loki’s mischief attracting the God of Thunder as moth to flame.

Loki is hunched over a white-tiled counter, his attention fully on the item in front of him.

"Brother!" Thor hails.

No reaction. Thor expects no less. If Loki is in one of  _those_ moods, nothing short of a horde of bilgesnipe will pull his brother away from his research.

Undaunted, he pulls closer, peering over Loki's shoulder. 

“Ah yes, brother, I’ve seen one of those before. In a text of the Brooks Stone, a compendium of wares for sale, I believe.” Thor frowns. “Forgive me Loki, but I do not recall an egg-cooking item of this shape on my previous sojourns with the humans.”

Loki hisses, his attention still focused on the counter. “Of course it’s an egg-cooking item, you dolt. Can you not see the small indentations in the surface?” He straightens to face Thor, waving a dismissive hand towards the dark item. “They are perfectly egg-shaped, just like those strange cartons the mortals use.”

Thor contemplates his brother’s words, all while watching the piece of Midgardian technology inch closer towards the edge of the counter, eggs and all. Close to two dozen, if he is not mistaken. 

“But Loki, since when have eggs needed vibrations to be cooked? That was not our custom on Asgard, nor any other realm I can think of.”

“Since when have small pastries necessitated a ring shape?" Loki snorts. "It’s Midgard, Thor. The technological limitations of the humans have forced them into certain overly-creative solutions.”

A fair explanation, but certainly not the whole one. While the pursuit of knowledge could have his brother tinkering with items for days on end, more mundane tasks such as cooking - well, those were, in Loki's words, "for the servants. Or  _seidr._ "

Thor decides to voice his skepticism. “Can you not accomplish this with your magic?”

Loki’s lip curves upwards, his features spreading into a not-quite smile. Even after thousands of years together, Thor still hasn’t been able to identify and catalog all the subtle differences in his brother’s many smiles, few of which are expressions of genuine happiness. (And, he thinks ruefully, there is still a category of smiles Thor had never encountered until Loki had emerged from the Void, frenzied and half-mad, ready to conquer realms at the behest of _him_. Thor doesn’t like to think about those looks, which thankfully have been fewer and further between since the defeat of Thanos and his children.)

“Oh brother,” Loki sighs, “we must _adapt_. As King of Asgard, it is your duty to learn all you can of this realm and pass it on to your subjects. I, as the sole remaining true mage of the Nine Realms," Loki quirks his head, "well, Seven-and-a-Half Realms, I suppose. I cannot cater to every whim and need of our people. There simply isn't enough of me to go around.”

“You could partner with the Midgardian sorcer - “

“ _I will not join forces with that false conjurer of cheap tricks!”_ Loki’s face contorts in irritation and Thor fears a dagger will be planted in his abdomen. 

Again. 

The eggs on the counter rattle, almost as if in fear of his brother’s anger, and Thor reaches out an arm to steady the device, carefully reaching around Loki’s taut form.

“Well, in that case, brother,” Thor says, placating, wanting to steer the conversation towards less volatile ground, “tell me more about this egg machine.”

Loki glares at Thor, possibly weighing the benefits of a recreational stab. Thor has come to think of these intermittent attacks more as stress-relief rather than hostile action, and he is more than happy to sacrifice his armor and dignity if it aids in his brother’s recovery and improved mood.

But the moment passes as Loki’s shoulders visibly relax, any hint of upset vanished behind his usual veneer of casual arrogance. 

“Must I do everything around here,” he grumbles, loud enough for Thor to hear, of course. The King of Asgard only smiles, well-used to his brother’s dramatic protestations masquerading as casual, private commentary. 

“The concept is quite simple. I am certain even you will be able to comprehend it.”

Thor settles his face into one of wide-eyed anticipation. The toll of the last few years have more or less chiseled away the last vestiges of innocence from his features, and the fake eye gifted to him by the sweet rabbit does little to comfort those who first meet him. It can be...an impediment for a king.

Still, Thor does his best.

“Now brother,” Loki, begins, adopting the tone of their tutors on Asgard, pacing back and forth before the egg-device, a single finger pointed in the air. Thor has always thought his brother would make a marvelous teacher, despite his impatience and sharp tongue. He has not consulted with the other Avengers, but he knows Loki could instruct the young Maximoff girl in regards to her magics, if she were willing.

And if the Avengers were willing to take Loki off house arrest. 

“It is very simple. One merely unfurls this pad, as so.” Loki has summoned a second device, from Norns-know-where. It is rolled up, similar to the way they would store their sleeping mats on their travel packs in Asgard, when on a quest. With a small flick of Loki's wrists, the pad flies forward, flat on the counter. 

“As you can see, this device runs on electricity, as the Midgardians have not advanced beyond simple energy sources.” Loki’s gaze unfocuses as his lecture falters, his words trailing away…

_And they failed to tame the Tesseract_ , Thor knows he is thinking. His brother has little talked of his time with Thanos, how he was all but tethered to the power of the Space Stone. But he has seen the hungry, wild look in Loki’s eyes, has heard his shouts and screams during the night to know well enough what effect it had on him. 

His brother recovers quickly with a small shake of his head, and Thor knows better than to push. Instead, he watches Loki take a long cord in hand, plugging its end into a nearby electrical outlet. The God of Thunder still finds these small conduits for electricity amusing, but the Midgardians make do with what they can. 

“Now, with the device plugged in, we wait until it reaches the correct temperature.”

“Yes, but why the vibrations?”

Loki shrugs, picking up the black cord again. There is a small dial in the middle, one Thor has not noticed before. 

“You can change the settings, you know," Loki continues. "The vibrations will undulate at different rates. I imagine it changes the molecular structure of the yolk, much in the way sound waves will make patterns in sand, or _seidr_ leaves traces in the cosmos.”

Thor _looks_ at his brother, his brows furrowing, his stare hardening ever so slightly. 

Loki rolls his eyes. “It changes the taste, you uncouth boor!” The reply is sharp, but Thor is familiar enough with his brother, as well as the Midgardian term “bullshit” (a word which tends to be associated with Loki’s less murderous activities with alarming regularity) to take the rebuke to heart.

Thor puts his hands on his hips, and stares at his brother. 

“Fine. Have it your way, Thor,” Loki pouts, crossing his arms over his chest, turning towards the giant steel refrigerator. 

Thor is uncertain whether to sigh or laugh. Loki’s return to his former dramatics, while vexing, is also a sign of his improving mental health. And while Thor knows that brother will “milk this situation for all it’s worth,” to quote Hawkeye, he is still inclined to humor Loki’s inclinations towards chaos. 

It is worth it to have his brother back at his side. 

Besides, Thor is certain this particular plan will have a rather spectacular punchline.

“Well, brother,” Thor slaps a meaty hand on Loki’s shoulder, coaxing him to turn and meet his gaze. “I am sure our fellow Avengers will be thrilled to try your delicacies.”

Loki stills, searching Thor’s face for any sign of censure, any hint that this will end poorly for him, that they are not a united front. But Thor, if nothing else, is able to channel naive positivity as he does lightening, and he fixes his brother with a sunny grin.

A subtle eyebrow movement and a slight nod are the only response he receives, but it is enough. Loki shrugs off Thor’s hand (Thor never touches his neck, not since _then_ , never again, unless Loki asks). Loki's face flattens into feigned cynicism. 

“Unfortunately, I do not believe the mortals will be so accepting of these offerings,” Loki says. “They still do not trust me, for some reason.” The God of Mischief makes a show of inspecting his nails, then the eggs, drooping his head in disappointment just the right amount. 

It hadn't surprised Thor that his brother turned to theater as therapy when he posed as King. Loki is a natural, after all.

“They have their reasons, brother, but they will eventually come around,” Thor answers, and this is no ruse, but something he truly believes. Loki is a mighty ally, loyal to those he loves, and Thor hopes that in time, the other Avengers will see what he does in his frustrating, but brilliant sibling.

“But…” Thor lingers over the word, as if he is making a difficult decision. He is not the Son of Odin and brother to the Chaos god without picking up _some_  penchant for acting. “I _suppose_ I could look over your efforts, and offer them to our compatriots. You would only need tell me how to finish this process.”

The effect is almost instantaneous. Another sly smile graces his brother’s visage, this one achingly familiar as Thor recalls a young, dark-haired boy sharing the same expression as they hid in the cupboards of the palace kitchens. 

“I will take you up on your generous offer, brother,” Loki says, his hands moving swiftly against each other in anticipation. He ushers Thor over to the two black mats, which are now emanating heat.

“Pay attention, I will only explain this once.”

Thor listens intently to his brother’s directions, nodding at the appropriate moments, making sure he is internalizing every detail. Even though he knows how this will end, Thor must play his part convincingly, understanding Loki’s subtle messages. Although they were estranged for a time, that brief separation was not nearly enough to disrupt hundreds of years of closeness, and their nearly-telepathic understanding.

“Do you understand all that, Thor? I realize that was likely more complicated than the monosyllabic reports Valkyrie gives you on a daily basis.” 

Thor grins at the jab, replying that he completely understands. He cannot help but put a hand to Loki’s shoulder once more, confirming the warmth (well, relative warmth) of his living, breathing body.

“Trust me, brother. I will not let you down.”

Loki gives him an appraising look. There is more meaning in that statement than the execution of a silly prank. His brother nods, patting Thor’s shoulder with his other hand. 

“Do be sure to tell me how they…enjoy my creation. Stark especially,” Loki purrs, taking the moment to glide out of the kitchen. 

“Oh, I have the feeling you won’t need me to tell you, brother,” Thor says to the empty room.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Point Break, are you cooking? I thought we talked about that already, you really shouldn't - “

Stark stops short at the entrance of the kitchen. His mouth hangs open, his eyes widening as he takes in the sight. 

“ _Thor, what the hell?”_

“Ah! Man of Iron! You are just in time!”

Stark rushes inside to come face-to-face (well, more like face-to-chest) with the God of Thunder. A finger pokes him in the chest repeatedly.

“Damnit, Thor, what did you - “ Stark runs an aggrieved hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ, I need a drink.”

Thor beams. “Ah, friend Stark, I neglected to mention!" If his voice is slightly louder, more boisterous than necessary, well, that was all part of the ruse, now wasn't it? "Valkyrie was here this morning and you may find your wares somewhat depleted.” 

“Somewhat depleted,” Stark mumbles, pacing in erratic patterns. " _Somewhat depleted?_ " he repeats. "Oh my god." 

"FRIDAY!” the engineer all but bellows.

“Yes, sir?”

“Get a booze delivery over here, STAT.”

“Any preference as to - “

“ _I don’t care._ ”

“Ah, the Desperation Special, then. Right away, sir.”

Stark glares at the AI, which is to say, he glares at the ceiling, but says nothing in response. His hand comes to his chest, rubbing at the spot where the arc reactor had been housed. 

“Thor. Thor. Buddy, pal.” Stark stares at the counter, at the melange of yellow and black, as if a swarm of bees had settled on the surface and promptly melted. 

The mortal opens his mouth and closes it, again and again, attempting to formulate his thoughts. He finally suceeds after several moments.

“Thor, why the hell did you cook two dozen eggs in the heating massage pads?”

Thor's eyes widen in surprise. “Massage pads? You must be mistaken, for these are egg-cooking devices!” he exclaims triumphantly. Thor points at the mess on the counter. “Do you not see the individual indents for each, just like your strange Midgardian cartons? And besides, a massage from these weak devices would be useless!”

Stark’s head is in his hands. “Thor…Thor, baby," he moans. "Oh God - “

“And the vibrations," Thoe continues, undaunted. "They change the molecular structure of the egg. Each turn of this knob will give a slightly different texture and flavor. A most ingenious device, although I do not altogether understand - “

“No.” Stark waves a finger at him. “No. I just - “ he stammers. 

_“Why?”_

It is a plaintive cry, and for a moment Thor almost feels sorry for Stark. 

Almost. 

“Because I was told this is your method on Earth!”

Eyes narrow in his direction. 

“ _Who_ told you this was our method?”

Thor grins. 

“Why, Loki, of course!”

Stark goes still and Thor believes he can see the engineer’s blood rise from his feet to his very head. 

_“I AM GOING TO KILL YOUR BROTHER WHERE IS HE?”_

Stark is bursting down the hall, yelling commands at FRIDAY, threatening dismemberment. Laughter that can only be Loki’s echoes down the corridor as Stark continues to scream obscenities in his direction.

Thor chuckles, opening a drawer, taking two spoons. He scoops a bit of egg from the now destroyed massage pads, adding a dash of Tabasco sauce before shoving the whole concoction in his mouth. 

“It really is quite good, brother,” he says in between bites.

Thor holds up the other spoon, which swiftly disappears from his grasp. Loki materializes next him, hip leaning on the counter, face flushed with victory. With a graceful movement, he takes his own portion of egg, conjuring some dill and Alfheim salt before taking a small taste. 

Loki smiles.

“Not bad at all, brother.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> *snort*
> 
> I love those two.
> 
> Poor Tony Stark. Hahahahahahaha!
> 
> Want to flail with me about my two favorite dysfunctional Asgardian siblings? Come say hi on Tumblr @be-a-snake-stab-your-brother (MCU/Loki) or if you dig Star Wars @legobiwan (SW/Obi-wan)


End file.
